


Phone Sex

by Writing-Rammstein (writingfanfic)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: ATTENTION, F/M, Lingerie, Overhearing Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 12:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14378637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: For the prompt: 'could you do a fic where Paul is really busy and Reader is doing all she can to get his attention (walking around in lingerie, teasing him) and eventually she gets her wish?'Of course! Someone teach Paul to use a phone...





	Phone Sex

“Paul.”

“Not now, sweetheart, I am on the phone.  _Ja, ich bin immer noch hier…_ ” You fold your arms as Paul goes back to the phone, and look at the time. You understand that the band life is a busy life, but he’s going away in a week or two to record, has been out all day at practise, and damn it, you’d like a dinner which wasn’t cold by the time Paulie gets to it.

“Dinner’s ready,” you try, and he nods at you. Throwing your hands in the air, you wander into the kitchen and sit at the breakfast bar, poking at the meal.

This is getting  _really annoying_.

* * *

“Paul, it’s been two hours…”

“ _Eine Minute._ ” He looks over at you, muting the phone with his palm. “I will be another moment, angel.” You nod.

“It’s been two hours… _since you said that,_ ” you add, and he shakes his head.

“It is a conference call with Rich and Till. Let me just…”

You creep up behind him, and slide your fingers over his hipbones, kissing his neck gently. He looks back at you, and you gently lick the shell of his ear before putting your lips to it, hands sliding to cup his crotch.

“ _Your dinner’s in the bin_.” You slide your hands back, grip his ass, and then walk off. There is plenty to eat, but his scorched to death staying warm in the oven, and that’s a tragedy – for him, you think, a little pettishly. You throw yourself onto the couch and fold your arms.

“ _Es tut mir leid, Till-_ ”

And it didn’t even stop him.

* * *

You pause for a moment on the landing and listen out. He’s still on the phone. You hope someone else initiated the call or you’re going to be paying some serious bills at the end of the month.

You sigh and step out onto the landing. He’s leaning against the wall, and you stride down the stairs – he doesn’t even  _look_  at you, which almost makes you turn around and go to bed, but you stop in the hallway and fold your arms.

“Paul, something needs your attention upstairs immediately.”

He turns to look at you, another rebuff on his lips that fades immediately as he takes in what you’re wearing – you went out especially and bought this so he could have some ‘special’ pictures to take on tour with him for those long, cold, lonely – they better had be bloody lonely – nights in hotels, but you think a sneak preview might be the only way for you to get to bed with him before the sun comes back up. It’s a négligée in cream with matching panties. They have a lace gusset. You paid a lot of money for that.

“Ah… <be right back.>” He presses the mute button on the phone, and throws it onto the chair next to it, walking over – you think he’s going to stop to kiss you, but he presses you up against the wall, and you remember for a moment that your cute little Paulchen is in fact bigger, taller, and  _stronger_  than you; something that is reinforced when he grabs your wrists and pins your hands up above your head, smiling. “Is someone looking for attention?”

“You’ve been on the phone for… around seven hours.” He blinks, staring at you, and you nod. “It’s nearly midnight, Paulie.”

“…I am so sorry,” he says, eyes contrite. “But… what’s this?” You wink at him.

“Well, you need a few pictures to remind you to resist the groupies,” you smirk, and he bites his lip, smiling at you. One of his hands stays pinning your wrists to the wall, but the other slides between your thighs and you gasp as he rubs you through the lace.

“You are already wet for me,” he mumbles, as if to himself rather than you. “How long have you been waiting for me?”

“Too long,” you gasp, and he moves the lace aside to slide his fingers inside you – you moan quietly, and he kisses you, pressing up against you. “Paul-”

“You feel so good.” He rubs your clit with his thumb, and you lean back against the wall, moaning as he stretches you. “Oh, sweetheart, you have waited so desperately for me. How could I have left you to the pain?” He grins, and then kisses you again, tongue battling yours like a thousand fanfiction clichés, and your chest heaves as he kisses you breathless.

“Oh-h…” You kiss along his jaw, burying your face in his neck – he smells so nice, comforting and warm, and you kiss his throat, gently nipping at where his stubble ends. He purrs deep in his throat, and you grind down, feeling your arousal aching between your thighs. The way he stretches you can’t compare to him fucking you, but it’s something – it’s some attention, after a day of no-attention-at-all, and you find yourself mumbling his name over and over, interspersed with some choice words in English and German.

“So needy. So beautiful.” His voice is a deep rumble in his throat as you kiss his neck, and you feel yourself tightening around his fingers in waves. “Are you close? You sound close, beautiful.”

“So close, Paul,” you breathe, and he kisses your neck, letting go of your wrists to gently pull down the strap of your négligée to kiss your bare shoulder – the sensation of his stubble on your skin made you shiver, and you whimper his name again. “So… close…”

Your eyes close and you slump forward into his arms, shivering as you come hard, and he cradles you close, sliding his fingers out of you gently and kissing you.

“There. Maybe that will satisfy you for a moment,” he says, and you push him weakly. “You may thank me later-”

Then there is a cackle from the phone, and you both tense.

“…that sounds like…”

“ _Oh, Paul. When will you learn to use a telephone?_ ” comes Till’s amused voice on speakerphone as Richard continues to cackle in the background – the speakerphone button being next to the mute button, of course. You redden, clapping your hands to your mouth. “ _(Y/N), we are terribly sorry for the intrusion on your privacy-_ ”

“…go upstairs. I… I will be up shortly.” You flee, and pause for a moment.

“ _< At least you made her come, hey?>_” Richard comments, and you lean over the bannister.

“ _I understood that!_ ”


End file.
